I study the little body closely. Murder? I find I like the sensation, although I do wish my victim had been a bit bigger. And perhaps that he had struggled more. This one was useful for information, of course, but I want more of that.
"Oh Mother, it feels like forever before I will be old enough to study the deaths of anything of real importance."
My voice is the voice of a petulant child, the words incongruous, perhaps, with the sweet face I present. Blood has dried in a brown smear across my purple nose.
"Words are that powerful." I muse. "I want to learn about them. If you could kill someone with words, you wouldn't need to be very big to master them, would you mother?"
Perhaps there is hope for me. I smile, one of pure joy.
The fall of the little birds instantly focuses me, and the smile disappears. I step gingerly forward. The untrained eye might think I am hesitant, but I am simply measuring. One tiny hoof pins a starling's wings to the ground. This one I caress with my nose, calming its frantic cries with a soothing motion. It chirps feebly. I bite in an instant, my teeth closing on its neck. This one crunches but does not squeak. Blood is tangy in my mouth.
Fascinating.
Mother speaks and I listen with rapt attention.
"A god… does that make me a goddess? Or the servant of a god?" I look up at her resolutely. "I should like to meet my brother."
Stupid birds. It doesn't even know to try and get away. I look at the remaining one with a small measure of disgust. It isn't even worth the effort it will take to, what was the word mother used? Oh yes, murder it.
I find that causing death is a little different every time. And every time, I learn.
"Perhaps my brother would like this squeaky thing as a gift to murder himself? I've enjoyed the two I've killed. I don't want to be selfish."
I look up at her, a small smile playing on my lips.
the academic executioner
daughter of carnage and killgore